BooksBarbecue
Back Last Place You Look Save as PDF
Chapters (85)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Prologue
  4. Part 1
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. Part 2
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. Part 3
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. 63
  70. 64
  71. 65
  72. 66
  73. 67
  74. 68
  75. 69
  76. 70
  77. 71
  78. 72
  79. 73
  80. 74
  81. Epilogue
  82. Acknowledgements
  83. Canelo Crime
  84. About the Author
  85. Also by Louisa Scarr

‘Alcohol slows down reaction time and judgement. When you’re pissed and driving that fast you can’t multitask. Plus it was raining that night. Hard. If this guy lost control, it was a foregone conclusion.’ Burton whacks the back of his hand against the palm of the other to illustrate his point. ‘Straight into the tree.’

‘And there was nothing wrong with the car?’ Freya asks.

‘Not that we could find. Speed on the dash sometimes indicates speed on collision but that was fried to hell. You want to take this lot?’ Burton asks, pointing to the three boxes.

‘Please.’ Then something occurs to her. ‘While I’m here, could you help me track down another case? A bit older?’

She passes him the case reference and Burton nods slowly. ‘I didn’t know this was up for review as well?’

‘It’s not, but it’s…’ Freya tails off. Why is she curious? ‘Just a side project,’ she finishes. ‘Will it be easy to find?’

Burton laughs. ‘Sure,’ he says, but something about his tone makes her doubt. ‘Follow me.’

He stands up and she walks after him out of the office, watching his practised movements, bending automatically as he goes through doorways. They arrive at the back of the house, and he opens a heavy wooden door.

He reaches round and flicks on the light. Freya gasps. Inside are rows and rows of brown cardboard file boxes, stacked up on each other, going back as far as the eye can see.

Burton chuckles. ‘It’s all yours.’

Freya spends the next three hours going through the boxes. This isn’t what she’s here for, she tells herself over and over, but for some reason she keeps going. And despite Burton’s obvious amusement, there does seem to be some sort of order to the chaos, she reflects, eventually noticing a row of dates from 2015: February, March, then, at last, September.

And then she finds it. It’s old, water-stained and crumpled from the effects of the three other boxes that have been piled on the top. Written on the end: September 2015. Riley.

The case files from Butler’s sister’s death.

38

His phone wakes him.

‘Butler?’

Robin mumbles something incomprehensible into his handset.

‘You know your CCTV?’

Robin sits up in bed, and rubs his hand over his hair. He’s not awake, only dimly registering that someone’s talking.

‘CCTV?’ he manages.

‘Yeah. The one from the Premier Inn? Your hanging wanking guy. Butler? You there?’

‘Yeah.’ Robin’s realised who’s talking at last. It’s Greg, from the digital lab. ‘What about it?’

‘I need to show you. Are you in?’

Robin squints at the clock. Shit. He’s overslept again.